Saturday, May 15, 2010

Me, in a nutshell.

"The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this:
A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive.
To him a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise,
a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy,
a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death.
Add to this cruelly delicate organism
the overpowering necessity to create, create, create —
so that without the creating of music
or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning,
his very breath is cut off from him.
He must create, must pour out creation.
By some strange, unknown, inward urgency
he is not really alive unless he is creating."

Pearl Buck

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